


God Bless the Emptiness

by Sjukdom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sjukdom/pseuds/Sjukdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does emptiness always means something bad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Bless the Emptiness

Jim looks at the city, full of life and people, swarming in the streets, running and moving, moving endlessly. So many deeds, so many wishes, no matter fulfilled or not. The city is full and it's already cracking, not being able to bear all this moving. People want, want again and again, it's always too little been given to them. They are driven by lust, greed – greed for money, power and lesser things, like some food for meal or walls and a roof over their heads only for one night. They breath, speak, scream, urinate and beating of their hearts pulsate in Jim's temples. There are too many of them. They are like cockroaches, hiding under floor, they are like Japanese monsters, peering from every crack in the furniture and from every door frame. Jim is so tired of them.

This city is never silent. No place, where sounds cannot pierce. No place, where you are invisible. Nowhere to hide. The air itself is heavy with fume, which he has to breath in. It feels like tiny insects in his lungs, scratching and flattering their razor-sharp wings inside his warm wet flesh. This city is never silent, even when it sleeps – all these hearts, filled with greediness and desires, go on beating. It drives him mad. Jim tries to drown them by music in the headphones, by the veil of alcohol, but they get him anyway. Even in his sleep, he sees and hears and feels. 

Death can seem a better exit out of this. Out of this city, that beast, breathing with thousands nostrils and living thousand lives at once. It's like a massive, formless hulk of flesh, covered with blue rivers of veins, with buildings, making its crooked skeleton. Death can be an exit, but Jim doubts that the beast can let go that easily. In one book he has read the most exact description of afterlife, which awaits those dying in Gotham. The same noise and motion, no death, no rest, no peace. No silence. No emptiness, only ugly, despicable fullness.

Sometimes Jim doubts if he exists at all. He doesn't belong in here. He's like a deep cut in the fabric, nothing among something, not able to change the one thing. He's useless. He feels a hole inside and know that it contains nothing. People and events flow through it, not leaving anything inside and there is the long-awaited emptiness dwells. Jim thinks that he can leave Gotham just now and nobody will remember him or long for him. He is empty and he thinks that it's the only way to live here. He is surprised no one else tries to cleanse from all the garbage they bear in themselves, from all the tentacles the beast holds them with. He is surprised no one else wants to be free from this city. Freedom inside is a freedom anyway, even if he in in the prison. He knows only one man, who is as free as he is.

_“Does freedom has to be complete?” asked him Oswald once._

_“I hope to reach it once.”_

_“Hope cannot set you free.”_

_“Didn't you just said that freedom doesn't have to be complete?”_

_Oswald laughs._

_“Half-full or half-empty?” asks Jim, genuinely curious._

_“Stop it”._

_“Half-full or -”_

_“Does anything in Gotham seem half-full to you?” asks Oswald him and Jim sees his pupils like black holes in his skull._

_“No”, answers Jim. “Only you are empty.”_

_“So fill me”, offers Oswald. “Fill all my holes.”_

And Jim does, finally forgetting about everything but the small body under him, around him, around his cock, pulsating and turning. The squeezing feeling drowns any other and the silence is laced from their breathing, growing rapid and uneven. They are sweaty, sticky and hot. They are covered in one another's liquids – saliva and semen, flesh and blood, fused together, two black holes, birthing a supernova. Two steps closer to freedom, two more smiles in the corner of prison cell. Two illusions of giving up everything, because they will never give up each other. They are happy with these illusions. Illusions are not physical, they are non-existent and utterly, completely empty.

Does emptiness always means something bad? 

It's silence. It's freedom. It's peace. It's rest. 

It's the vacuum in Oswald's mouth, when he sucks me off, Jim can say. 

God bless the emptiness.


End file.
